


it's down to me and you

by ohmygodwhy



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types
Genre: Idiots in Love, Introspection, M/M, here we go again, nico is so sappy jesus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-11
Updated: 2015-05-11
Packaged: 2018-03-30 01:10:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3917614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohmygodwhy/pseuds/ohmygodwhy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>nico di angelo is not used to gentle things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	it's down to me and you

**Author's Note:**

> don't mind me and my 1 a.m. ramblings
> 
> decided to try out this writing style again, since it was pretty enjoyable last time

 

nico di angelo is not used to gentle things. he is used to sometimes _seeing_ gentle things, yes, used to watching them from a distance. but that is a ‘sometimes’ thing, not a ‘happens every few days’ thing.

that is a ‘sometimes' thing, and the world he is used to is rough and rocky and not for the faint of heart- his faint heart that had almost gotten him killed or eaten or stabbed had been shrugged off and tossed in a dumpster somewhere around the time when he was refused access to a safe-house of sorts in the middle of manhattan, ten years old and shivering and he had made the mistake of mentioning his father’s name, his father’s name that no one likes hearing and he was quite literally shoved out the door.

nico di angelo is not used to gentle things. bombs dropping and killing thousand of people and cities swarming with soldiers through a static-y old radio are not gentle; a wave of crushing change rushing in and taking his sister with it is not gentle; his father’s gaze boring its way into his skin and telling him he is not worth it, he is not like bianca, he will never be able to do what she could do, is not gentle.

soft voices of kind old ghosts giving him directions up and down the streets of italy are a jarring kind of gentle, like the splash splash splashing of the styx as it winds it’s way through the underworld, like the soundless laughs of his dead (he doesn’t like to think of them that way, doesn’t like to think of them as anything less than human) instructors, helping him straighten his stance or control his swing, or long gone musicians yearning to play their song to someone who will listen (he will listen)- they are not real, they are not living.

the dead, he decides, are much gentler than the living. death, he discovers, is much gentler than life. life is bustling and crowded and full of change, ruthless ravaging change, full of twists and turns and it likes to screw you over, likes to pick out a few people to throw under the bus here and there, to pour all of its cruelty on and insist that life isn’t fair, that it’s not life’s fault, but theirs. death is quiet, death is peaceful, death is eternal- nothing changes, nothing leaves, everything dead will stay dead and once the hole a dead man has once filled is smoothed over and replaced, death is kind.

nico di angelo is not used to gentle things. he is used to whispers and accusations, to unwarranted hatred and uncomfortable looks that no one questions really, because a son of hades is a son of hades and their suspicion is of course natural, of course reasonable, right? no one questions his absence and no one looks past his name.

(even percy, even the hero, the accepting, wonderful, everybody’s favorite endearing idiot, does not question it- he questions his loyalties, oh yes, he questions his motives and power and when he is deemed approvable and convenient he is spared the lingering eyes. no eyes on him are better than suspicious eyes on him, and he knows he will never be viewed as anything other than a child or a stranger).

nico di angelo is not used to gentle things. he is not used to casual greetings paired with casual smiles cast at _him_ , in _his_ direction, entirely and only for him and they catch him off guard every time. he is not used to being looked at as something other then what he is- a thief, probably (he isn’t sure what he’s stolen but with the way people look at him he thinks he might as well have taken poseidon’s trident or something), a waster of space and useless save for times of distress and definitely not worth the time of the one and only son of the sky himself. not used to being looked at as a friend, as a comrade, as someone pleasant to be around (‘ _pleasant’_ and ‘ _nico di angelo’_ are not two words that belong in any sentence together, in any form or arrangement or even on the same page).

he is still not used to hazel’s trust in him, or in reyna’s trust in him. he is still not used to having two doors open to him instead of shut and locked tightly with two or three padlocks and wrapped in police tape.

he is not used to being allowed to drop into the huge zeus cabin whenever he feels like it, allowed to stumble inside in the dead of night and stay awake long enough to eat a bowl or two of whatever he deems worthy from the refrigerator jason’s really not supposed to have and mumble a quick greeting before sleeping his little heart out. he is not used to being allowed to call someone a friend, allowed to talk about things that shouldn’t be talked about.

he is not used to jason’s hesitance. he is not used to the silent ‘can i?’s and the feeling of hands on his arm or wrist or shoulder, slipping into his own and fitting together like they were meant to fit together and he can’t afford to think like that, he’s made that mistake once before and if it happens again he thinks he might not make it through- he’s not making it through already, he’s falling behind, caught in the grasp of gentle hands and gentle smiles and gentle _gentle_ lips against his own and nico di angelo is not used to gentle things.

and jason is gentle and nico is not and jason is confused. definitely most certainly almost 100% confused, out of his mind and all sorts of crazy because jason is gentle and nico is not, jason deserves the world and nico cannot give it to him. and he _is_ a thief now, a robber, he deserves those looks now- he’s a thief who never thought he would actually succeed, he’s a thief who watches from far away, who watches the ones he treasures be stolen and praised by the ones who deserve them and this is not supposed to happen. nico is a thief and jason is gentle and nico is not used to gentle things.

he is not used to patience. he is not used to acceptance and welcome. he is not used to company. he is not used to hugs or light banter or shared interests, not used to television in ‘ _actual color oh my gods when i was younger there were only like three movies and it was all black and white you don’t appreciate how cool this is’_.

he is not used to achingly soft touches, so soft he wants to cry because he has never- he has _never_ felt this wanted- this _loved_ \- and nico is not used to gentle things.

nico di angelo is not used to gentle things. gentle things are not made for him, do not like him. jason grace is gentle- brutal in battle and stern when he needs to be, but so ridiculously gentle. nico doesn’t like being treated like glass, doesn’t like being washed in pity. but jason is gentle, in all the right ways, and nico thinks that, hey, maybe he can get used to it.

 

 


End file.
